The Coming Storm
by TheMotherQuill
Summary: Sam and Dean are on a hunt while they look for their dad when they, quite literally, run into another hunter. She's as fiery as her hair is, but she knows her stuff. When the boys find out who she really is and that she knows their dad, will they be able to weather the storm? Slight AU due to OC's. I own nothing and no one but my humble OC's.
1. Prologue: The Land of Makebelieve

**A/N: **Hello all! I had this story up previously, but I didn't like what I'd written. So this is a fresh start. I'll be re-writing and re-uploading everything I've written so far over the next week. And to those of you who are new: welcome! I hope you enjoy the story and characters, and I **love** getting reviews! As usual, I don't own anything you recognize, and as usual, if you want to change that by delivering Dean and Sam to be with nice big red ribbons on them, I'd be more than pleased to take them. Enjoy! -M

**Prologue~ The Land Of Make Believe**

(November 30, 1985)

It was the middle of the night, but something had brought Maggie Gallagher out of her comfortable slumber. She furrowed her brows as she rolled over in bed, but then she heard a floorboard creak somewhere near the front of the house. Though her body was tired and half asleep, it had been trained from the time she could stand to be a weapon. She slid from her bed in silence, moved over the floor of her room, and reached the open door.

Maggie carefully slid around the corner and crept around to the opening of the kitchen. Sure enough, a shadow moved within. As she crept through the hall, she took stock of everything she could use in her kitchen against an attacker. She ducked behind the counter and slid into the kitchen, grabbing the rifle off of the wall and raising it all in one smooth motion.

"Evening Maggie," the shadow in her kitchen said calmly.

Maggie lowered the gun and flipped on the light in the kitchen, looking at the man at her kitchen table with wide eyes and furrowed brows.

"John?" she asked in disbelief. His face was a mask of bruises, his shoulder was in a sling, and he was stitching his own side closed.

"Sorry to barge in," he said casually. Sadly, it was not a strange occurrence for Maggie to find John Winchester at her kitchen table at all hours of the night, nursing wounds. It was only surprising this time around since it had been so long since his last visit.

Maggie crossed the room and sat across from John at the table, taking the needle from him and setting about stitching his wound closed. That had been what John was hoping would happen, as Maggie's stitches were always small, even, and held up nicely.

"What was the job?" she asked, seamlessly knitting flesh back together. Maggie knew most women her age weren't up this late to stitch family friends back together at their kitchen tables; most were up this late with lovers and girlfriends, dancing in clubs and drinking in bars. She'd never been a very social girl to begin with, intimidating most of the girls her age at school. She had grown up a hunter, raised by hunters, and always toted around meeting new hunters. And she'd be the first to tell you, hunters weren't what you would call the social norm.

"Shifter," John winced. "Nasty son of a bitch this one; threw me down a flight of stairs." Maggie shot John a withering glance as she snipped the end of the thread. She moved to the counter and grabbed a bottle of whiskey, which she then passed to John. He took a swig and swallowed a would-be curse while Maggie cleaned her work with rubbing alcohol before putting a bandage over the sutures.

"Where are the boys?"

"Jim's lookin' after them," John said, pulling his bloody shirt off. Maggie stood and pushed John back in his chair before starting to clean his bloodied face. "I checked in, don't get after me." Maggie huffed as she carefully cleaned his wounds, but said no more of John's often-abandoned sons.

"How long are you staying?" she asked, smoothing a butterfly bandage over his busted cheek.

"Thanks," John said. He knew there was an open door policy between the two of them, even though he hadn't used it in quite a while.

"Few days should—"

John was cut off mid-sentence when a cry rent the air, coming from a room towards the back of the house. Maggie tensed for a second, then moved away from John, padding quickly towards the noise.

"Maggie…what is that?" John asked as he followed on her heels, though he knew full well what was making that noise. He'd gotten up late with two babies, and though Dean was six now, Sam was only two and still woke in the middle of the night sometimes. A parent didn't soon forget the sound of a newborn's cry though.

"Took me a while to realize it, and by the time I peed on the stick, you'd dumped your phone again. I figured you'd swing through eventually though," Maggie sighed.

She pushed open the door to what used to be a small guest room. The room now contained a wooden crib and rocking chair that both looked like they'd seen better days. A cross hung on the wall along with a framed picture of Maggie in a hospital gown holding a fresh, new baby. Where fold-down blinds used to hang now hung a delicate yellow curtain and valence.

Maggie went to the crib and lifted the small, crying baby out. She cooed gently to the baby and gently moved it to her breast. John looked on in shock, not from the breastfeeding—Mary had nursed both the boys—but from the fact that he'd been gone long enough not to even have realized Maggie had been pregnant and had a baby. The infant couldn't have been more than a week old.

John's eyes went to Maggie's and she caught his gaze.

"February. The djinn. Bobby, Rufus, and me came through…" he trailed off, trying to remember what, if anything, had happened all those months ago. "Am I…I mean…Is this—"

"Are you thinking this is your daughter, John Winchester?" Maggie hissed.

"Well I can't remember!"

"Oh for Christ—she's not yours! So you can wipe that terrified look off of your face!" she hiss-whispered, shifting from one foot to the other, rocking the baby girl as she nursed.

John clenched his jaw for a minute, but then exhaled with a sigh. He extended his arms slowly and Maggie carefully handed him the baby. Her eyes were open and she looked sleepily up at John, curling her wrinkly, newborn fingers around his shirt as he held her closely.

"She'll need a better crib than that wreck," he said softly, looking down at the baby as though he was addressing her. Maggie hid her smile carefully. "And rocking chair. Mary had a big one, for feeding the boys at night, a comfy one you can sleep in. Gotta think about baby-proofing everything too. I've done that before though, it won't take too long." he was listing things off as they occurred to him, and that's when he realized he didn't even know the baby's name.

"What do you call her?" he asked, holding the tiny girl in one arm and letting her gum his pinky finger.

"Theresa," Maggie said. "For my mother. Theresa Jane."

"Theresa's an old lady's name," John said as he cradled her like a football as he had once held his own sons. "She's a Reese."

(May 20, 1994)

Reese opened her eyes to the rays of a bright, morning sun shining through her curtains to dance on her bedspread. She stretched her long limbs and slowly extracted herself from the tangled white blankets. She heard the sounds of a tin whistle filtering in through the hallway and knew her mother must be up making breakfast, so she swung her legs over the side of the bed and marched into the kitchen.

"Morning mama," Reese yawned, seating herself at the counter and taking a swig of the juice that had already been poured for her.

"How'd you sleep, _mavourneen_?"

"Fine mama." Reese's mother had been calling her _mavourneen_ since she could remember. It was a simplified form of _mo mhuirnín, _the Irish phrase for 'my dear'.

Maggie Gallagher was a beautiful woman with long copper hair that spiraled down to her shoulders in thick coils, and eyes the color bluebells. She had been born in Ireland, but her father and brothers had moved her to the states after her mother died. Patrick Gallagher and his sons, Aiden and Declan, had quickly made a name for themselves in the states, and as soon as Maggie got her G.E.D, she started making one for herself as well.

"How are you this morning?" Reese asked tentatively, eyeing the back of her mother's head. Maggie had been confined to a wheelchair for the past two years, after a hunt went wrong and a bullet severed her spinal cord. Reese had almost lost her completely, but after a long month in the hospital, Maggie was back up and running—so to speak. The wheelchair had taken a lot of getting used to, by Reese and Maggie both, but now it was just one more thing in their lives.

"Fine, _a ghrá_," Maggie answered, rolling her chair around and placing a plate on the table. "Steak and eggs?"

Reese's head shot up and she looked from her mother's face to the plate of fried eggs and steak strips. Steak and eggs meant something special. Steak and eggs meant that they had a visitor. Reese looked over to the boots by the door and her face lit up with a giant grin.

"He's here?" she squealed, the mile-wide smile that stretched across her face threatening to make her freckles explode off.

"Woke me up at two this morning with that ungodly engine rattling—" Before her mother could finish explaining though, Reese had bolted off her stool and was running for the guest room. "Wake him up, serves him right, the _bundún_!" Maggie called after her daughter, who ignored the curse and peeled down the hallway at break-neck speed. She reached the guest room but instead of bursting inside, she stopped and slowly pushed the door open.

One hazel-green eye peeked inside and landed on a mass of disheveled, black hair poking out from under the comforter. The man in the bed was clearly too long for it; his socked-feet were sticking out from the bottom of the comforter. Reese slid into the room quietly and crept over to the side of the bed. She carefully slid to the bed, and was reaching over to tickle the man's ear when an arm reached out and grabbed her.

With a growl, the man pulled her into the bed and under the covers and began to tickle her mercilessly. Reese shrieked with laughter, flailing around as her ribcage and underarms were assailed with unforgiving tickles.

"I give up! I give up!" she managed to get out, gasping for breath as the man finally ceased his attack with a chuckle.

"I thought I taught you better, Sassafras," he said, ruffling her red curls as he threw the comforter off of their heads. Finally able to move, Reese launched herself at the man with black hair and hugged him as tight as she could.

"Whoa, calm down kiddo, I've got some bumps and bruises this time around." he winced, but hugged her back.

"I missed you!" Reese's voice was muffled, her face buried in John's chest, but he understood her. He sighed and ruffled her hair again, then kissed the top of her head.

"Sorry I stayed gone so long this time, kid. I had to check in on the boys and—"

"Did you wish Sam a happy birthday?" Reese interrupted John, who looked surprised at the question. His eyebrows knitted together, but then he smirked.

"I…yes, I did."

"Did you get him a present?" John sighed, nodding.

"Yes, Reese, I got him a present. I got him a very nice new knife."

"A knife? You got him a _knife_ for his birthday?" Reese said, crossing her arms over her chest and raising a red brow in a near-perfect imitation of her mother. John realized it _had_ been a long time since he saw her last, and she was becoming a girl in his absence. "Well, for my birthday, maybe you should just put your name on whatever mama gets me," she said seriously. John scoffed, picked her up off the bed, and swung her over his shoulder to carry her into the kitchen.

"You've been turning my tom-boy into a girl while I've been away, Maggie Gallagher!" John bellowed as he dumped Reese into a chair at the kitchen table. Maggie wheeled herself over to the table with a big plate of pancakes which she placed next to the steak strips and fried eggs. Reese giggled as she forked an egg and moved it to her plate.

"Your tom-boy is growing up whether you're here or not, John Winchester; and before you sit down at my table, you better put on a shirt. And if I find any blood on my sheets, I'll string you up with them." Maggie placed a cup of coffee by John's plate as he muttered something and walked back to his room to pull on a shirt.

"Happy?" he asked, pulling on a clean t-shirt as he sat down at his place at the table. Maggie 'humph'd and reached for both John and Reese's hands. John, as always, groaned. Maggie glared over at him and more forcefully reached for his hand.

"John Winchester, we say grace in this household. You know that. If you eat at my table, you follow my rules."

Reese reached for John's other hand and he sighed, unable to resist the smarmy look on her face. He placed his hand over her smaller one and gave Maggie his other hand.

"May the blessing of the five loaves and the two fishes which God shared out among the five thousand be ours. May the King who did the sharing bless our sharing and our co-sharing. Amen." Reese and Maggie spoke together, Reese peeking an eye open to watch as John sat silently. After the prayer was finished, both Maggie and Reese made the sign of the cross.

John quickly scooped a pile of eggs onto his plate, then topped it with a slab of steak strips. Reese giggled at Maggie's look of disbelief. It was good to have her strange little family whole again.

After all of the steak, eggs, and pancakes had been devoured and the kitchen had been cleaned up, Maggie retired to her study. John had filled her in on this last hunt he'd slumped in from and she wanted to record some things before they slipped her mind. John set about checking the house over as he did on every visit, making sure everything was in working order and that nothing needed replacing. Reese donned her overalls and Chuck Taylor's and followed him to the laundry room.

"You're getting taller, Freckles." John noted aloud, handing her a screw to hold as he replaced the filter on the air-vent in the laundry room. Reese smiled up at him and nodded proudly as she held the screws.

"I've grown four inches since last month. Mama says she'll have to rob a bank to keep me in clothes soon." John smirked and shook his head. The life of a hunter _was_ the life of a bank robber. They got by on credit card scams most of the time. Maggie's dad had left her a chunk of money when he passed, but it had been eaten up by hospital bills to get Maggie back up and running again after the hunting accident two years back.

"Your hair's longer," John noted, accepting the screws back after putting in a clean, new filter. "Darker too."

"The kids at school call me Chucky," Reese huffed, handing him a screwdriver before he even asked for it.

"Idiots, every one of them." John replied, smiling and taking the screwdriver. For the next few hours the two journeyed around the house, fixing things as they went, swapping stories of what had happened in the time since they'd seen each other last.

Reese told him about the science project she did on acid etching knives, though she left out the part where the principal had called Maggie in to speak about how a nine year old shouldn't have access to knives, let alone know how to etch one with acid. She told him about the baby bird that had fallen out of a tree by her window, and how she'd gotten in trouble for climbing the tree to return it to its nest. She told him about the fight she'd gotten into at school with one of the boys in her class who'd called her a name she still didn't know the meaning of—she was fairly sure by John's reaction that it was one to tuck away for later use. She'd punched him just like John had taught her, thumb outside the fist so as not to break it, throw all your weight into it, and punch _through_ the target. She'd laid him out flat and gotten suspended—which she left out as well.

After a while, the pair ended up lying on the dock down by the pond on the property. It wasn't really a pond, but it wasn't really a lake either, but it was where Reese liked to sit and think the most. She turned to John and he could see thoughts buzzing around in her head, but she was chewing on her lip like she did when she didn't know how to ask a certain question. _Too damn grown up for a nine year old_, he thought giving a shake of his head. He put his hand on her shoulder and gave a little squeeze.

"What's up, Sassafras?"

"I found a book of mama's…a journal. It said…a lot of weird things."

"I see," John sighed, rubbing his stubbled chin. "And did you talk to Maggie about it?"

"No. I…wanted to ask you."

"I see. Well, what did you want to ask?"

"Does garlic work on vampires or is that just in the movies?" John's mouth hung open in shock for a moment, then he closed it and shook his head, blinking a few times.

"That's not…what I was expecting, but okay. No, no it doesn't work. You can only kill a vampire by cutting its head off."

"And what about werewolves? Do silver bullets really work?"

"Silver bullets, silver knives, silver tipped arrows. They hate the stuff, same for shifters."

"Shifters? They're the ones that can change into another person right?"

"You read the whole journal didn't you?"

"What I could make out." Reese answered truthfully. John sighed, shaking his head.

"You are _nine years old_," he said, exasperated. "You aren't supposed to be so smart. I might have to knock some of that sense out of you." He gave her a noogie for good measure. Reese smiled, but looked up at John with those thousand-year-old eyes of hers.

"That's why you're hurt every time you visit, isn't it? Because you fight the monsters like mama used to?"

"Well I ain't hurt _every time_ I visit…"

Reese raised a brow and John sighed.

"Yeah. That's why I'm hurt all the time."

"Do Sam and Dean know?" she asked quickly. John sighed. She was forever wanting to know about the boys, and he was forever telling her everything the possibly could. He bragged about them, told stories about them, anything to cover the gaping hole left by abandoning them so often.

"Yes. They do. Dean's known for a while now, for a long while, and Sammy…found out a year ago."

"Mama wrote about…your wife…how she died." John squeezed his eyes shut and swore to give Maggie a damned long tongue lashing for leaving that things lying around. "I'm sorry."

John looked up and met Reese's hazel eyes.

"I'm sorry you lost her like that."

He was quiet for a long while, hands clasped together in front of his knees. Dean had known probably since the night Mary died that there were things in the world that needed killing. Sam just found out the year before that he'd been lied to about Mary's death, that she'd been killed by a monster and not a drunk driver. They'd both been dragged into this life by John and his constant search for the thing that killed his wife. Reese didn't have to be.

"You don't have to be like me, Reese, you know that right? There's nothing and no one making you become a hunter." he said finally.

"I know."

"And you know we, your mama and I, want you to go to school. We want you to go to college and live a normal life."

"I know."

"Good. Good." he said, patting her knee.

"John?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"Will you stop lying to me now when I ask why you're beat up?"

He stifled a chuckle and nodded. _Damn but she's smart_.

"Yes, Sassafras. I'll stop lying about being beat up."

"Okay."

"Come on, let's go see if Maggie'll let us fix some lunch."

He stood and let his hand drop to Reese's thin shoulder as they traipsed back up to the house.

(June 9, 1999)

John Winchester had pulled into the Gallagher driveway upwards of three hundred times before, but when he pulled up this time around, there was a car sitting in the yard that he'd never seen before. The '69 Chevelle was up on cinderblocks and there was a pair of long legs outfitted in grease-covered jeans sticking out from underneath it. CCR was playing on the radio and a familiar toolbox was open and in reach of the mechanic.

"Be careful with those tools, they're mine." he said by way of greeting. He folded his arms over his chest as the mechanic jumped, cursing, and slid out from beneath the car. Then John's jaw slackened and his eyes almost fell out of his head.

"_Beanpole_?" he asked in shock, taking in the sight of the fourteen year old with wide, unbelieving eyes.

"Been a while, old man!" Reese smirked, walking into his arms as though not a day had passed. Many days had passed though, and with them, Reese had grown into a young woman. She'd apparently, John noted with a fierce amount of paternal protectiveness, been one of those early-bloomers. Gone was the lanky figure he'd last seen and in its place were new, foreign curves. She'd let her hair grow out much longer than he'd ever seen it and it now fell to her elbows in a thick, red braid. The braces she'd despised for so long were now gone, replaced with a perfect smile. The freckles he'd once teased her about were still sprayed across the bridge of her nose, though they'd diminished somewhat in their brilliance. She had lived up to her nickname, shooting up another handful of inches since the last time he'd seen her. She wore what had once been one of his black t-shirts, but had been cut into a loose tank top, and John decided everything about her was perfect.

"Hell's bells kid, you've gone and grown up."

He was still trying to convince himself that the last time he'd seen her she'd been a foot shorter and in pigtails when she threw her arm around his waist and pulled him towards the Chevelle.

"What do you think?" she asked proudly.

"Think? This…this is _yours_? How in the hell—"

"Was that John Winchester I heard pull up, Theresa Jane?" Maggie's voice lashed out from the porch like a whip. John and Reese both winced at it. John looked over at Reese and his eyebrows rose even as the token Winchester grin spread over his face.

"I take it Maggie didn't know you were buying it."

"She's not too happy about it either."

"I can tell."

"She swore to shoot you next time she saw you when I towed it here."

"_Me_?" he gawked.

"Something about 'bad influences' and such. Look at her! Ain't she a beauty?" Reese asked proudly. John had to chuckle, folding his arms over his chest with a grin.

"At least I taught you well,"

"You might not want to mention that to mama…" Reese said, patting him on the arm. She looked at him, the length of his curling hair, the length of his stubble, and she smiled leaning in to give him another short hug. "I've missed you, old man."

"And I've missed you, Sassafras." he said, giving her a light noogie before pulling her to him again and kissing the top of her head.

"Theresa Jane!" Maggie bellowed again from the porch.

"Uh-oh…prepare for the lashing." Reese muttered, elbowing John in the ribs.

"I heard that, you stubborn girl! Bring him inside so I can yell at him to his face!" Maggie shouted. John and Reese chuckled together and walked up to the porch. He'd done it again. He'd stayed gone for too long and he'd missed her growing up some more.

When he wasn't missing milestones in Reese's life, he was missing them in Sam and Dean's. Dean had long since dropped out of high school, though he'd gotten his G.E.D, while Sam was winning history awards one week and going off on small hunts of his own the next; and now Reese had a car. He was always waiting for it to get easier, being a parent, but he was beginning to realize maybe it was him, maybe he wasn't cut out for the job. Maybe it was time to stop living in a land of make believe.

Monsters were real, whether they were ghosts and ghouls or teenaged girls with cars.


	2. Chapter 1: No Easy Way Down

**A/N:** Hello all! And thus continues our saga. As always I, regrettably, own nothing you recognize. Supernatural and all of the characters therein are not mine, though I borrow them for my own pleasure every once and a while. Crom Cruach is also not mine, but legends and stories about him can be found in the dusty sections of libraries or if you search my old friend the internet. There is some Latin and some Gaelic in this chapter, but I've provided translations to anything you might be curious about, and if you're still curious, drop me a line and I'll let you know what something means. And, contrary to popular belief, flattery will get you everywhere, so review and I will show you just how much I love you by updating more frequently.

**Chapter 1~ No Easy Way Down**

(March 29, 2006)

Sam and Dean snuck down through the forest they'd scoped out earlier, feet making as little noise as possible as they traveled over leaves and fallen branches. Both brothers were armed with machetes, guns with silver bullets, iron bars, and rock salt. They had hunted the Banshee back to this forest, to a stream at its heart, and were prepared to end it tonight so that it wouldn't be able wail again and kill anyone else in town.

Dean stopped for a minute and looked back at Sam.

"You hear that?" he whispered. Sam nodded.

"Splashing…"

The brothers moved quietly and purposefully down through the brush, and stopped on an embankment when they caught sight of the water. Sitting below them, on the edge of the stream, was a beautiful young woman with long pale hair. She was clothed in a flimsy white gown and held bloody clothing in the stream, watching the blood color the water as it flowed through the cloth.

Dean turned to Sam and the brothers nodded. Dean held his hand up.

_One, _he counted on his fingers.

_Two,_ they crept closer to the outcropping so that they could jump down easier.

"Three!" Dean said, and jumped down by the Banshee.

"NO!" a voice shouted, and another young woman—one who was visibly human—jumped in front of the Banshee. Dean's machete sliced through her top, and grazed across her stomach before coming in contact with the large hunting knife the girl held.

"What the hell?" Dean asked as the girl forcibly pushed him back. The Banshee stood up and brought her arms out in front of her. In an instant, her face went from beautiful to terrifying. Her flesh cracked like burnt paper and her eyes blazed red. Before Dean could blink, he and Sam were knocked backwards against the rock with a crunch.

"No, it's alright!" the human woman said, dropping her knife. She held her arms up in front of her, facing the Banshee. Dean struggled to get back up, held down by an invisible force. _Idiot's gonna get herself killed!_

"_Níl, tá sé ceart go leor. __Tá sé ceart go leor. Ná díobháil dóibh_. [No, it is alright. It is alright. Do not harm them.]" The young woman spoke in a language Dean didn't recognize, her tone soothing, as though speaking to a skittish horse. The Banshee's face shrunk back to the beautiful woman she was before, and she looked down at the blood on the human girl's hands. Dean and Sam could move again, and they quickly struggled to their feet.

"_Fola_," the Banshee said in a musical voice, pointing to the girl's hands. The girl nodded and showed both of her hands to the Banshee. Both hands had her own blood on them, and Dean realized he must have cut her fairly deep for there to be so much blood.

"Yes, _fola_, blood. My blood. You recognize its song because we come from the same place, the same people." the girl said slowly.

"_Amlóiraigh_," the Banshee said, motioning towards Sam and Dean.

"Yes, they might be fools, but I promise they won't attempt to harm you again. They're looking for the killer, to stop the killing. Wouldn't you like that; to continue resting in your stream, to not have to wail nightly?" the young woman said calmly. The Banshee regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, and looked over to the brothers who stood frozen, watching the exchange in confusion.

"_Lorg siad an Ceann Fola,_" the Banshee said mellifluously. The human girl nodded and bowed her head.

"Thank you, thank you very much." she said, backing away from the Banshee. With a blur of white and red, the Banshee disappeared back into the stream, and the girl was left standing in silence.

"Wonderful," she said finally. She turned around and narrowed her gaze at Sam and Dean. "You two chuckle-heads almost got yourselves killed." she said tersely. She sloughed her leather jacket off and ripped the sliced part of her t-shirt off before tying it around her own torso to stem the bleeding.

"Exactly! That thing's a killer and _you _just let it get away, _sweetheart_! Care to tell me what the hell you think you're doing?" Dean said, and drew his gun out, aiming at the girl. She just glared at him and raised a brow.

"That _thing_ is not what's killing these people. If you'd done your research _sweetheart_, maybe you'd have realized that." she answered, pulling the cloth as tightly around her torso as she could. A fair amount of blood had already spilled down her stomach and on her hands, and the shredded t-shirt didn't seem to be helping all that much.

"Well if that isn't the killer, what is?" Dean growled angrily. The girl opened her mouth to speak, but wobbled on the spot a little and sucked in a shaky breath.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm about to faint." she said, before she fell to her knees. Sam's long legs carried him to her quickly, and he caught her before she fell forward. He picked her up and looked back at Dean.

"We better get her to the car and look at her stomach." he said. Dean looked at Sam like he'd sprouted a second head.

"She just cost us this hunt, Sam! Why should we help her?"

"Because you're the one that did this," Sam began testily, getting a better grip on the girl. "And because she seems to know what's really been killing everyone in this town."

"And we, what, just let the Banshee _go_?"

"Dean, you saw what happened. The Banshee didn't try to hurt her. And whatever else, she's gone now; we won't be able to find her." Sam said, trying to logic his brother into following him out of the forest.

"Fine. But don't get too friendly," Dean grumbled. "For all we know, _she's_ the one killing people." Dean muttered the last part to himself as he picked up their dropped weapons. He found the girl's knife and picked it up as well, wrapping it in her discarded leather jacket before he followed his brother up and out of the forest.

The brothers took the girl back to their motel room and laid her out on one of the beds. In the light, they were able to get a good look at her. She was attractive was what they both concluded without telling the other. She was tall for a woman, but still a good deal shorter than either of the brothers. She had well-muscled arms and from the six different knives Dean had found hidden on her, they decided she must have been a hunter. They'd stashed the weapons out of her reach in case she woke up and got pissed off about the slash across her torso. Her hair was vivid auburn and her skin was like porcelain, pale from blood-loss. She wore a pair of jeans, a t-shirt—which she'd ripped apart to make a bandage—the leather jacket, and a pair of motorcycle boots.

They stood staring down at her on the bed, wondering how to proceed.

"Should we…you know…take her shirt off?"

"Dean!"

"I was just asking! We need to get to that wound!" Dean said defensively. He wouldn't mind seeing a little more of her, but was more worried about the amount of blood he'd caused her to lose.

"Well…yeah…I guess so," Sam said, hesitantly sitting on the side of the bed she lay on. He carefully pulled away the torn part of her top that she'd tied around herself. Dean noticed his cheeks color a bit and scoffed, pushing him aside.

"Let a pro in there." he said, and almost without moving her, he removed the shirt entirely. Sam draped a towel over her chest and Dean set about cleaning the wound. He'd tagged her pretty well, but didn't think she would need stitches. It had bled so much due to the location more than the depth or severity of the cut. He carefully spread a thin layer of antibacterial gel over the wound and placed butterfly bandages along the gash, then wound some gauze bandaging around her stomach and taped it down so everything would hold in place.

"What now?" he asked, like Sam would know. Sam raised his brows and shrugged.

"You're the one that nearly sliced her in half."

"I realize that, asshole. I mean, what now, as in the hunt!" Dean said gruffly. He draped the towel back over the girl's torso before sitting in one of the two chairs in the motel room.

"Well, the Banshee said something to her," Sam said, sitting across from his brother. "I say we wait for her to wake up and see if she can help. She's clearly a hunter, or…something."

"So we're babysitting until then?" Dean grumbled.

"Looks like it," Sam answered tersely. Both brothers crossed their arms over their chests.

"Ugh, you two bicker like an old married couple, you know." rasped a groggy voice from the bed. Sam and Dean turned to see the girl opening her eyes and slowly pushing herself up. She winced and her hand went immediately to her wound.

"Son of a bitch," she murmured as she pushed herself up more slowly. The fact that she wasn't wearing a top seemed not to occur to her until Sam handed her one of his own button ups. She looked down and realized she wore only her black bra and then glowered over at the brothers, who had become very interested in looking anywhere else in the room.

"Mother," the girl cursed under her breath as she slid her arms into the shirt. The brothers looked away while she buttoned the front of the shirt up. She rolled the sleeves up to her elbows, but she still looked ridiculous in the huge shirt, like a little girl in her daddy's clothes.

"Right, so," the girl said and pushed herself forward so she was sitting on the edge of the bed. "Who do I have the pleasure of addressing?" Sam and Dean looked back at her then.

"I think we'll be asking the questions here, sweetheart," Dean said, moving his arm to show the .45 he held. The girl rolled her eyes, but held her hands up to show she understood he was in charge.

"So I don't even get your names before you start interrogating me?" she asked with a quirked brow. Dean clenched his jaw and looked over at Sam.

"Connor. That's my brother, Murphy." Dean said bluntly. The girl's brow seemed to rise even more but she didn't say anything.

"Right. Connor and Murphy…" she said and crossed her arms over her chest. The action seemed to pain her, but she clenched her jaw and swallowed the whimper that threatened to escape.

"And you are?"

"Tess," the girl answered.

"Is that like Beyonce, or is there a last name?"

"Because Connor and Murphy are so original! Everyone who's anyone knows Boondock Saints, Cheekbones." Tess answered sharply. Sam sat back and watched Dean and the red-head with interest. He had been under the lifelong impression that Dean was the King of back-sass, but it seemed he might have met the Queen.

"Fine. Tess it is then. You wanna tell me what the hell you thought you were doing, jumping in front of a machete like that?" Dean continued.

"You mean what did I think I was doing saving your asses from the hell that Bean Sidhe would have unleashed on you or what did I think of your poor choice of knife?"

Before Dean could explode, Sam cut in.

"You said the Banshee was innocent, but now you're saying it would have killed us?"

"She was innocent, but you two clearly haven't done your jobs well enough to realize that."

"Hey, sister," Dean barked testily. "We're damn good at our job. We had three different statements saying that before the victims died, a shriek was heard. It ain't hard to put two and two together."

"You went after her because she was _wailing_? That's her _job_, you moron! _Tá tú a bheith ag magad_! Do you people not even read the lore anymore?" Tess shook her head and huffed, which seemed to pain her, so she sat still again.

"What are you talking about?"

"My mother came from Ireland, and I've studied all the stories, the ones she told me and the ones from her library. The Bean Sidhe, are innocent creatures. There have been cases of malevolent Bean Sidhe, but those were caused by the way in which the woman died." Tess said, sounding suddenly like Bobby did when he lectured them.

"Wait, what woman?" Sam asked, confused.

"Christ Jesus," Tess groaned, covering her face with her hand for a minute. "Tell me you at least know how a Bean Sidhe becomes a Bean Sidhe."

"They're just…born like that, aren't they?" Dean asked.

"No, Cheekbones," Tess mocked, and she stood. Dean still had the .45 in his hand and she realized it, but she couldn't sit still any longer.

"Bean Sidhe are born when a woman dies either by drowning or in child birth. They're benevolent creatures, filled with sorrow. Their lot in life—or death, as it were—is to warn people who are about to die. The five great families of Ireland were said to have Bean Sidhe that were bonded to their families, and these Bean Sidhe would weep to tell those families when one of their number was going to die. They only attack humans when their streams or they themselves are threatened, like you two threatened the Bean Sidhe in the forest earlier."

"So they're all tied to water?" Sam asked.

"Kind of," she said, pacing back and forth in the small room as she explained. "The Bean Sidhe needs a body of water as like a base of operation. Warning, or wailing, for those marked for death isn't all they do. They wash the clothes of those who have been killed because they're so distraught at the loss of a life; their tears fill the rivers and streams of the world, tying them all together. They are not evil, and the Bean Sidhe you almost killed earlier did not kill all those people."

"But she told you what did, didn't she?" Dean said pointedly. Tess's green eyes shot to him in shock, but she nodded.

"You got that much, did you?" she asked.

"Yeah; what language was that?"

"Gaelic. I told you, my mom's Irish."

"So what's killing people?" Sam asked.

"Have you ever come across a god?" Tess asked tiredly.

"Yes," the brothers said flatly. Tess looked surprised, but grateful that she wouldn't have to do too much more explaining.

"The Bean Sidhe said you seek _The Bloody One_," she said slowly.

"The Bloody One? Who's he?" Dean asked with a grumble.

"Crom Cruach," she shuddered and crossed herself, something that had Dean scoffing. "An old Irish deity. Apparently the Irish in these parts brought a wee bit o' the isle with them when they got off the boat." Tess said with a perfect accent.

"And what's this Crom Cruach like? On a scale of smack it with a fly swatter to bring out the big guns?" Dean asked.

"More like grab your kids, get in the car, and drive for the hills." she answered seriously. Sam looked across at Dean.

"Is there anything in the lore that could help us beat this guy? I mean, what kind of deity is he?" Sam asked.

"A fertility god," Tess answered with a pointed look. It took less than a second for Sam and Dean to realize what she'd said and what that meant.

"The clinic," Sam said. "All of the victims were patients at the fertility clinic."

"Yeah, but you checked that place out. You said it was clean." Dean said.

"You might have checked it out, but you didn't have me with you. I'll be able to sense if Crom Cruach is there."

"And why is that?" Dean asked, smirking. "You got some sort of Irish ESP?"

"Not exactly. Crom Cruach is from my world, my people. Like recognizes like." Tess answered as though they should have known. She stretched her arms out, wincing as she did, but she didn't stop.

"Hey, uh, look," Dean began, motioning at her. "I'm sorry for…well the machete."

"It happens, and I've had worse. Don't worry about it," Tess said, and turned to face him. "What you _do_ need to worry about is whether or not you got my knife out of that forest." she said, pointing at his chest.

"Yeah, it's right here," Dean said, moving his jacket off of the large hunting knife and the various other small blades they'd taken off of her. She didn't move for the knives, but she nodded as though counting each one. She smirked and reached up her shirt, then brought another small blade out and laid it down on the table with a raised brow aimed at Dean.

"You missed one."

Sam smiled as Dean grumbled under his breath and Tess turned towards them, placing her hands on her hips.

"So am I sleeping over, or do I get to return to my car tonight?" she asked half joking, half serious. Dean and Sam looked at each other, and Tess found herself thinking just how close they must be to communicate with a simple look.

"We'll drive you back to your car and S—Murphy can drive it back here. It'd be easier to hunt this guy together, so you might as well just stay here." Dean finally said. She sighed in answer, but shrugged.

"Fine," she began, pointing from one to the other. "But if either of you get handsy in the middle of the night, I'm within my rights to gut you." Sam shot Dean a look, which Dean made a shocked face at.

"So are you two Abercrombie models going to drive me to get my stuff or what? We've got plans to make." she said as she grabbed her jacket and headed towards the door. Sam and Dean looked dumbfounded at each other, but followed after her.

Dean drove with Tess in the passenger's seat, Sam in the backseat, armed and ready should she attempt anything. She seemed willing enough to help them, to kill this Crom Cruach thing, but Dean hadn't ever had another hunter attack them to _save_ a monster. Until he knew more about her, he was convinced that keeping an eye and a gun on her was more than a good idea.

They reached the convenient store Tess had directed him to, where her car was parked and Dean turned off the ignition. He got out, walked around, and opened the door for her.

"Aw, what a gentleman," she said sarcastically as she struggled to get out of the car without harming her stomach further. He reached down to her with his palm open, offering to help so that she wouldn't have to shift herself so much. "Thanks…" She spoke sincerely this time, glad of the help.

"Alright, where's your car?" Dean asked. Tess smiled and pointed behind him.

"That's my baby." she said proudly. The brothers turned to see a gorgeous black Chevelle parked off to the side out of the way of the foot traffic coming in and out of the store. Dean's jaw went slack and he grabbed at his chest.

"Sweet mother of god, she's beautiful." he rasped. He quickly turned to look back at the Impala and he clenched his jaw, gently putting his hands on the hood as though caressing a lover. "I didn't mean anything by that, baby. I'm sorry." he whispered. Sam chuckled as Dean kept looking back and forth between the two cars.

"Enough panting, let's get going." Tess said seriously, and walked to the car. She opened the front door and looked over her shoulder at Sam.

"Alright Jolly Green," she said, motioning at the open door like Vana White. "Keys are under the seat, could you grab them for me?" Sam sighed, but bent down and grabbed the keys from under the seat. Tess took them and walked around to the trunk. She unlocked the trunk and shoved it open with a wince while Dean and Sam moved behind her.

She motioned to a latch on the side of the interior and asked Dean, who was closest, if he would pull it. When the latch was pulled, the base of the trunk popped open and Dean caught it, hooking it into the correct position. It was put together in much the same manner that the trick bottom of the Impala was though, upon looking in the secret compartment, Dean found it in a much more organized state than his own arsenal was. Wooden compartments had been built into the hidden trunk, just like in the Impala. Larger guns, like rifles and shotguns, were held in a rack on the top of the hidden trunk. There were numerous scabbards on the rack as well; one that looked long enough to be a sword. In the base of the hidden trunk, in the wooden compartments, were things like ammunition, bags of rock salt, candles, incense, crystals, handguns, smaller daggers and a few axes, numerous cracking leather-bound books, a handful of old leather satchels, six or seven silver flasks, and four different bottles of whiskey. There were prayer beads, salt rounds, a gallon plastic bag holding what looked like various pieces of antique silver, glass jars of various colored fluids, handcuffs—Dean smirked when he noted a pair of red furry ones right next to a pair of real handcuffs—a rusted ring of old keys, and a professional first-aid kit.

Tess reached for a wooden box, and though it was dark outside, the brothers were able to make out intricate Celtic knot-work burned into the top and sides. Tess carefully opened the box, and revealed a very old leather-bound book.

"This is the oldest and most important book I've ever owned and I swear to god if you touch it, I will rip your scrotums out through your throats," Tess said. She looked over her shoulder at the pair and Dean had the distinct feeling that she was not joking.

"What is it, fairy tales?" Dean asked, his tone light.

"It's an early manuscript, a translated journal, kept by an Irish hunter named Patricius." Tess answered. Sam's eyes seemed to widen and Tess could see the cogs in his brain beginning to whir. She hid a smile, impressed.

"Patricius…Patrick…as in _Saint Patrick_?" Sam asked, in awe. Tess then revealed her smirk and nodded, running her hand over the front of the book.

"Saint Patrick…was a hunter?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"One of the first to record his findings," Tess said, carefully closing the book and restoring the lid of the box. She handed it to Dean with a significant look. "Let's get back to the motel and I'll tell you everything I know, alright?" The brothers nodded and waited while Tess grabbed a duffel bag and a computer bag from the backseat.

Sam helped her put the bags in the back of the Impala then met her solemn gaze as she handed over the keys to the Chevelle. "She likes George Strait, going about 5 over the speed limit, and a very gentle touch." She ignored Dean's utterance of, "I bet she does," and she placed the keys in Sam's hand.

She carefully settled herself into the passenger seat of the Impala and looked at Sam again before he could shut the door for her.

"Be careful with her." Dean rolled his eyes at Sam and as he lowered himself into the driver's seat. The Impala took off, Sam following carefully behind.

"So where'd you get the book?" Dean asked over the sounds of Bachman-Turner Overdrive.

"My mom was a hunter," Tess answered simply, subdued.

"Oh…" There was silence for a moment. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah,"

The rest of the ride was silent, and when they reached the motel, both seemed relieved to get out of the car. Sam drove up in the Chevelle and parked beside the Impala. The cars looked like they could be siblings. Tess grabbed the keys and locked the car when Sam got out and gave the hood a little rub before turning and gently taking the box from the passenger's seat of the Impala. Sam and Dean carried her bags inside, and closed and locked the door behind them.

"Right," Tess said, stretching her neck and looking at the boys with a smile. "Who's ready for a bedtime story?" she asked. Sam liked her, despite what Dean thought, and Dean was already finding it hard to hold her previous actions against her.

Tess sat on one of the two chairs in the room and recounted the tale of how Saint Patrick had become a hunter, what he had hunted, and the things he had passed down. Sam listened eagerly, while Dean studied Tess. She was attractive, with eyes that were a bright, clear hazel-green. _Like cat eyes_, Dean thought. She was quick to smile, and when she smiled widely, he was able to make out slight dimples in her cheeks. The livid auburn of her hair only made her eyes brighter.

"So," Sam said, clearing his throat and looking over at his brother. Dean cleared his throat as well, embarrassed he'd been caught staring at her. "Patrick fought this Crom Cruach before? He got rid of him?"

"Only for a while though, it seems." Tess answered. She grimaced as she stretched her body, and Dean felt a jolt of guilt rip through him.

"Does it say how he did it?" Dean asked, edging his way back into the conversation.

"As far as I can tell from what I translated," she began, gingerly opening the old book to a particular page. "'Thus was defaced the head of Crom Cruach, and was only then was I able to invoke the name of Almighty God and cast Crom Cruach from the land.'"

"So it sounds like we take off his head?" Sam asked, furrowing his brows. He stood and looked down at the book Tess held with a look of surprise. "That's…not Latin. What is that?"

"Gaelic. This isn't the original journal, but a translation. Well," Tess drew the word 'well' out and bobbed her head sheepishly from side to side. "It's actually a translation of a translation of a translation."

"So this is like a…fourth generation journal?" Dean asked, counting on his fingers.

"Basically. Patrick wrote his journal in Latin, which was translated to Primitive Irish, then to Middle Irish a few centuries later, and then to this…which," Tess began digging through her duffel bag and she brought out a thick, leather notebook. "I translated into English." she said triumphantly.

"That's a lot of work for one person," Dean said. Tess looked over at him and he noticed her jaw clench.

"I had help. My mom before me, her dad before her, so on and so on."

"You grew up in the life." It was more statement than question, because Sam already knew the answer.

Tess sighed and closed the book delicately before fastening the box closed again. "My mom was a hunter, all of her family was; but after she had me, she stopped. She did more research then, you know, kept her feelers out for cases for other hunters."

"What about your dad?" Sam regretted asking as soon as he saw her face.

"I don't know who my dad is," Tess said blankly, her voice low in her throat. "And I don't particularly care to. The man that helped raise me was the best father I could have asked for, even though he wasn't mine. He was a hunter, a great hunter, but he was an even better friend. I do it more because of him than my own family…" Tess surprised herself with the last sentence, and that she'd shared any of her history with the same men who had held a gun on her earlier.

"Well," she said, changing the subject quickly. Dean saw the haunted look in her eyes though, and was reminded of himself. "We should figure out how we're going to get into the fertility clinic again."

"Right," Sam and Dean said together, just as eager to sidestep feelings hour.

It was 11am the next morning and Sam and Dean were still waiting for Tess to emerge from the motel bathroom so they could get ready for the job. They had come to agree upon a plan of action in the early hours of the morning. Tess, who seemed to be _scarily_ good at hacking computer systems, was able to log into the clinic's record and find a couple's appointment that was scheduled for that afternoon. It was a simple matter of calling the couple that morning, posing as a secretary, and saying that the doctor was out sick and they needed to reschedule; and boom, they were in.

Alex and Claudia Coombs were a successful couple. Alex was an architect in his thirties who came from Indiana. Claudia was the co-owner of an add company, in her late twenties, and from England. Tess had realized that she would need to look the part of a fashion savvy business woman, and had taken over the bathroom upon waking up that morning to call the actual Coombses.

She'd been in the bathroom for an hour already, and aside from the various curses they could hear coming from within, Sam and Dean had no idea what was going on inside. Dean was just about ready to kick the door down so he could piss, when it opened and out stepped a completely different woman than had walked in.

Tess's red curls had been tamed into big waves that framed her heart shaped face. She wore a cream colored chiffon blouse and a knee-length, black pencil skirt that sat high on her waist, cinched in with a thin red belt. She wore the kind of vintage panty hose that had a seam up the back of the leg, and a pair of red pumps that matched her belt. Her eyes were lined with black cat-eye liner, and her lips were the same brilliant red as her hair.

"Whoa…" Dean exhaled, then cleared his throat and blinked a few times. "Well it took you long enough." he said to cover his previous statement.

"Have you ever tried putting on panty hose?" Tess shot back as she sauntered into the room—and _sauntered_, Dean thought, was the only way you could describe the movement.

"You look very…" Sam stammered, trying to find a word. When he couldn't he settled on, "Nice."

"Thank you, Murphy." Tess said with a smile. Dean disappeared into the bathroom before he felt obligated to compliment her as well, and he closed the door behind him. On the counter was a large black bag that must have contained all of the things she had used to doll herself up. Dean shot a look at the door, then carefully unzipped the bag.

"Jesus," he muttered, finding all the medieval-looking devices inside. He was about to zip the bag back up when he spotted the silver locket she had been wearing the night before. Carefully, he picked up the necklace and studied it carefully. It was a simple silver oval with a beautiful G intricately carved on the front. On the back was a cross surrounded by a triquetra. Dean looked at the door again, then popped the locket open gently. Inside was a picture of a middle-aged woman with red hair and pale blue eyes, and on the other side was carved a small phrase. _Dhéanamh mé do chroí le mianach_. The woman had to be Tess's mother; they looked almost exactly alike. There seemed to be another part that could fold out, but Dean couldn't manage to pop it out. He reluctantly put the locket back where it lay before and went about getting himself ready.

When Dean exited the bathroom, he found Sam was in the room alone making another pot of coffee.

"Where'd she go?" Dean asked anxiously.

"Relax, she's just grabbing some things from her trunk. The book didn't say what kind of blade Patrick used, so she's getting a few choices."

"We still don't know her, Sam."

"We may not, but she spent the whole night in this room, not four feet from us, and didn't lay a finger on either of us. Her knives haven't been touched, and you saw the small arsenal that's in the back of her trunk. She could have taken us both out without waking us up, or she could have driven off and not looked back. She didn't though."

Before Dean could answer though, Tess opened the door to the room with a triumphant smile, holding a black thigh holster with three slender knives resting in it and a longer bowie knife. She raised an eyebrow and stretched the hilt of the bowie knife out to Dean.

"Silver blade," she said. Dean took the proffered blade and looked at it appreciatively, then back up at Tess.

"And you think this'll do the job?"

"I hope so. All I know is what the journal said," Tess looked from Dean to Sam, her face suddenly grave and her eyes burning solemnly. "I'm flying nearly blind here, with a single translated passage to go by. I can't promise this will work, and I need you to know that."

"We understand," Sam answered for them. He'd dressed in a pair of jeans and a button down shirt since he was going to be waiting in the Impala outside of the clinic. He'd already gone in to ask questions, so he'd be recognized if he went in again.

"Alright…I say we get a hurry on." Tess said, slipping on a black pea-coat she'd brought in from her car.

"Mr. and Mrs. Coombs, it's a pleasure," Doctor Reid said with a pleasant smile as she shook Dean and Tess's hands. Tess smiled and when they sat back down, she placed her hand on Dean's knee.

"We're so glad you could see us today, Dr. Reid. Between Alex's long hours and my business trips, we never thought we'd get in." she said, putting on a flawless British accent.

"Well, you're here now and that's what matters," Dr. Reid smiled widely. She was a pretty woman with black hair and honey brown eyes. "Now, Mr. Coombs,"

"Please, call me Alex," Dean said with his best politician's smile.

"Alex, how many siblings do you have?"

"Two older sisters and a younger brother," Dean said, having memorized Alex Coombs's file.

"And Claudia?"

"I have a twin brother,"

"Alright, and all of your parents have siblings as well?"

"Oh yes," Dean chuckled. "You need an excel sheet to get through family reunions!" Tess hadn't ever met anyone with such bad jokes, but she chose to smile lovingly at him instead of roll her eyes.

"Right, and how long have you been trying to conceive?"

"Well, we got married three years ago," Dean began.

"And have been trying for eighteen months now with no results." Tess finished. Dean gave her hand a small squeeze and she looked longingly into his eyes.

"No other health problems, you're both healthy, so clearly we need to do some tests and determine why you've not been able to conceive yet," Dr. Reid said. She closed her notebook and smiled at the two hunters. "Why don't we set you up in a room, Alex, and you can give us a sperm sample while we look at Claudia down the hall?"

Dean was taken aback for a moment, but Tess gave his leg a pat. Their eyes met momentarily and Dean saw that she hadn't thought they'd be split up either.

"Of course, Doctor." Tess said, standing as Dr. Reid stood. Dean stood as well and found his arm reached unintentionally out to Tess, his hand resting at the small of her back. Tess turned to him and gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile as she placed her hand on his chest.

"Aren't you two just a matching set," Dr. Reid said as she lead them from the Room. Tess tensed and her eyes widened behind the doctor's back.

"Now, Alex, if you'll step in here, please. There are movies and magazines for you to use if you need them, and when you're finished you can place your sample in that little window." Dr. Reid said as she opened a door. Dean moved towards the door, but Tess caught his hand in hers.

"A kiss for luck?" she asked. Dean almost raised a brow, but was able to stop himself as Tess stretched up to him. Her lips came to his cheek, and she rested them against his warm skin for a moment, steadying herself with her hands on his chest.

"It's her," she barely breathed in his ear. Dean understood, and he panicked for a moment. He was leaving her alone with Crom Cruach.

"If you'll follow me, Claudia, we'll get you set up for a routine pelvic exam." Dr. Reid said, and Dean felt an involuntary shudder run up his back.

"Good luck," he said, giving Tess's hand a tight squeeze. Tess gave a nod and went with the 'good doctor.'

"Now, I'm going to have you slip out of your clothes and into a gown, and then we'll do a quick pap test before getting Alex back in here and taking a look with the sonogram. Okay my dear?"

"Absolutely," Tess said, putting on a big smile. The doctor returned the smile and closed the door behind her when she left. Tess exhaled heavily when she was gone and looked down at her hands. They were vibrating from nerves and from fear, so she shook them vigorously to try and make them stop.

_Aren't you two just a matching set…_

How many times had she heard her mother use that phrase when talking about their dogs, or when trying to be friendly to one of her boyfriends? _Like recognizes like_, she had told the brothers. If she had made the doctor for what she truly was, then the doctor had surely made her as well. Tess carefully reached up her skirt and grabbed one of the knives in the thigh holster. She carefully moved behind the door, so when the doctor came back into the room, she could ambush her. She heard footsteps coming down the hall and she clenched her jaw, waiting for the door to open.

The door handle turned and the door opened slightly, then someone stepped inside. Tess brought the knife down, but the figure caught her wrist in their hand, and twisted her arm behind her back.

"Whoa, it's me." Sam said from behind her. Tess exhaled and spun around.

"What are you doing?"

"D—uh, _Connor_ said you fingered Crom Cruach."

"It's the doctor. She just left me to change clothes, but she'll be back any minute. You need to go!" Tess whispered. The door opened though, and Dr. Reid stood there.

"My, my, my…what have we here?" she said, her voice low and smooth. Where before there was no accent, now there was a clear Irish brogue. Tess held the knife up and Sam tried to reach for his gun, but the doctor raised her hand and they were both flung against the far wall. The doctor clucked her tongue and wagged a finger at them both.

"Now children, play nice."

"Crom Cruach," Tess spat, struggling against the invisible force holding her to the wall. A slow feral grin spread over the doctor's face and Tess felt her skin crawl.

"How nice to hear one's true name, don't you agree Theresa?" she asked, then turned to Sam. "And dear Samuel, I've heard so _very_ much about you." She stepped towards him and pressed her finger to Sam's forehead. "Such potential," she all but purred, then turned to Tess and caressed her cheek. "Such spirit…"

"Back off!" Sam spat, trying to release himself from the invisible hold.

"Or what? You'll call big brother Dean to save the day? He's…occupied at the moment," Fear shot through Sam like a bullet, and his eyes shot to the door.

"Hey Crom," Tess struggled. "_D'anam don diabhal, bitseach_. [Your soul to the devil bitch.]" She slammed her head into the doctor's, and the hold on she and Sam broke.

"Sam, get to Dean!" Tess shouted, wielding her knife, ready to take the doctor's head off. Sam rushed from the room down the hall, throwing doors open. Tess swung the knife up, but the doctor raised her hand and she froze in place.

"Oh, Theresa, didn't your mother ever teach you," the doctor cracked her neck, blinked, and when she opened her eyes again they were white. "To respect your elders?" She threw Tess against the wall again, the silver knife clattering to the floor and sliding out of reach.

"You're not a god," Tess struggled to choke out, the invisible force strangling her this time. She felt her throat being squeezed, felt her airway closing up.

"I beg to differ, darling." the doctor answered. Sam and a slightly battered Dean appeared in the doorway, and the doctor turned to them.

"Demon!" Tess choked, tears streaming down her reddening face. "The head…altar! Run!"

"Tess!" Dean bellowed, but the knife Tess had held earlier flew towards them with the flick of the doctor's wrist. Sam grabbed the door and slammed it shut before the knife could touch them, and it buried itself in the door.

"Clever little girl," the doctor said through clenched teeth. "Now I'm going to have to kill you."

The door opened again and Sam flung water into the room. When the doctor's skin began to smoke and she flinched, Tess fell to the ground gasping and touching her neck. It felt as though two massive hands had been trying to crush her throat.

"Tess!" Dean quickly grabbed her and pulled her to her feet, out of the room. "We gotta hurry!"

"Go, go, go!" Sam said hurriedly, pushing both injured hunters from the room as he grabbed the knife from the door and slammed it behind them.

"The passage was wrong!" Tess wheezed, her voice gravelly due to the pressure that had been exerted against her throat. "It didn't say Patrick took off Crom Cruach's head, it said _altar_. He defaced the _altar_ and was able to invoke the name of God."

"So someone called that thing here?" Sam asked, checking behind them as they ran down the hall.

"I'm thinking the Doc might have asked for a little help and bit off more than she could chew." Dean gruffed. His cheek had been split open and it looked like someone had tagged his arm with a knife. The three hurried down the corridor and began opening rooms and looking for an altar.

"Alright, someone's gotta take care of the good doctor back there," Dean said as they hid in an empty exam room for a moment.

"I'll go," Sam volunteered.

"No. You're better with Latin; you help Tess find the altar and figure out what kind of exorcism we need to use. I'll take care of the Doc." Dean shrugged his business jacket off and grabbed his gun from where he'd stashed it in the back of his waistband. He took a second and looked at Tess seriously. The wound he'd caused her the day before had started bleeding again, and she had bruises blooming on her throat. She cringed terribly as she strapped her knife back into its sheath, and Dean figured she might have broken a rib.

"You'll be okay?" he asked tersely. She gave a nod and took the gun Sam offered her.

"Don't worry about me. Just get the bitch to the altar after we find it." Dean nodded and the hunters parted ways.

Tess turned to Sam and the two headed down the hall as quickly and quietly as possible, guns poised.

"She'd keep the altar close, somewhere only she could go." Tess whispered.

"Somewhere she'd need a key or code for?" Sam asked.

"Exactly,"

"When I checked the clinic out the first time, there was a lab where the expensive equipment was kept. Her secretary couldn't show me in because she didn't have the access code."

"Take me to it," Tess ordered. Sam led her down a set of stairs and to a lab door locked with a key-pad. Tess handed her gun to Sam and tied her hair back into a bun before she set about cracking the pad open. Sam watched her work with awe and respect. Her deft fingers opened the panel and she quickly set about manipulating wires. They heard two gunshots and looked up.

"We need a distraction to buy us some time and get all the civilians out of here," Tess muttered as she twined two wires together. Sam looked around and spotted the fire alarm. He quickly pulled the lever and the alarm went off. He pushed Tess around a corner so they could hide out of sight as the employees and patients exited the floor, their bodies pressed up against each other.

"Clear," Sam said, moving away again.

"Make the call." Tess said, pressing the enter button on the panel and opening the door. Sam grabbed his phone as they moved inside the lab.

"What?" Dean yelled on the other end of the phone.

"One floor down, room 394."

"On my way!"

"Sam!" Tess called. He turned to see the secretary holding a large syringe. Her eyes were black as night.

As she lowered her arm with a snarl, aiming for Sam's chest, Tess fired her gun and shot two of the demon's fingers off. She shrieked, the syringe falling to the floor, but she grabbed Sam none the less and slammed his head into the lab's glass windows.

"Sam!" Tess yelled. She shot the demon in the chest three times, making her fall back against a sink. Tess rushed over and yanked a chaplet from off of her wrist. She shoved a stopper into the sink and turned the water on full blast as she held the prayer beads in it and began to recite in Latin.

"_Exorcizo te, creatura aquæ, in nomine Dei Patris omnipotentis, et in nomine Jesu Christi, Filii ejus Domini nostri, et in virtute Spiritus Sancti: ut fias aqua exorcizata ad effugandam omnem potestatem inimici, et ipsum inimicum eradicare et explantare valeas cum angelis suis apostaticis, per virtutem ejusdem Domini nostri Jesu Christ: qui venturus est judicare vivos et mortuos et sæculum per ignem__—_" Before she could finish though, black smoke burst from the secretary's mouth and the demon disappeared through a vent. Tess rushed over to Sam and fell to her knees beside him, still gripping the chaplet.

"Sam? Sam! Come on, Sam!" she said, shaking him and lightly slapping his cheeks. Sam opened his eyes and groaned, reaching up to touch his head, hair matted with fresh flowing blood.

"Thank god," Tess said, helping him to his feet despite the pain in her own body. "Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine. We've gotta find the altar," Sam said, slightly dizzy. Tess looped his arm around her shoulders for good measure, and they began to search the room. They opened a closet and found a table set up inside with a sigil painted in blood in the middle. There were candles and a skull along with a chalice of what looked like blood, and a book of Latin opened to a marked page.

"Naughty children," a voice behind them said. They turned to see Doctor Reid/Crom Cruach standing there, her chest bleeding from two bullet wounds. "You're meddling with things you cannot fathom!" she said, and raised her arms so that a box of syringes exploded towards them.

"Sam!" Dean shouted as he tackled the doctor. Tess reacted quickly, pushing the already-dizzy Sam out of the way as four or five of the syringes planted themselves in her arm and side. She screamed in pain and fell to the ground.

"Tess!" Sam bellowed, crawling to her.

"The skull!" Reese ground out through gritted teeth. "End it!"

Sam pushed himself to his feet and looked over at Dean grappling with the doctor. Dean was thrown against the wall and Sam looked from the altar to Tess.

"Hey Crom!" Sam yelled, knocking the chalice and skull from the altar. The doctor spun towards him and prepared to run at him. "_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus_, _omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio_ _infernalis adversarii, omnis legio,_ _omnis congregatio et secta diabolica._" Sam began, reciting from memory, hoping this particular exorcism would be powerful enough. "_Ergo draco maledicte_ _et omnis legio diabolica_  
_adjuramus te._ _Cessa decipere humanas creaturas,_ _eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare._"

"Hurry it up Sam!" Dean choked, still held up against the glass by the demon's invisible force. Tess began slowly pulling the syringes out of her arm and her side, and she looked up at Sam, seeing that he was having trouble remembering the next verse.

"_Vade, Satana, inventor et magister_ _omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis._ _Humiliare sub potenti manu dei,_ _contremisce et effuge, invocato a_  
_nobis sancto et terribili nomine,_ _quem inferi tremunt._" she supplied, gasping as she pulled the needles out of her flesh. Black spots began to swim in her vision.

"_Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire te rogamus, audi nos._ _Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae humiliare digneris,_ _te rogamus, audi nos._ _Terribilis Deus de sanctuario suo._ _Deus Israhel ipse truderit virtutem_ _et fortitudinem plebi Suae._ _Benedictus deus. Gloria patri._" Sam finished, and the doctor's body began to shiver and shake.

"Amen, you hell-bitch." Tess spat, then slammed her fist down on the skull that Sam had knocked to the floor. As the brittle, ancient bone cracked, the doctor screamed as her body crumbled before them and it was as though her own skull had been shattered, her face caving in and blood spilling everywhere. Dean fell to the ground, the force that had been holding him gone, and he stumbled to his feet.

"Sammy?" he asked. Sam nodded, gripping his head and trying to stop the blood with his shirt.

"Tess," Dean said, kneeling beside her. She was bloody and panting from the effort of pulling the deeply imbedded needles from her body.

"I think it's just saline," she said, gasping, as she pulled out another syringe. The wound spat blood with frightening intensity. "But it hurts like a bitch."

"We gotta get you to a hospital," Dean said, and tried holding pressure to her arm with some paper towels he'd pulled off of the wall.

"Sam pulled the fire alarm," she said softly. Her vision was swimming already, and she knew she'd lost a lot of blood at this point. "They'll be here soon. You two should go."

"I'm not leaving you here," Sam said determinedly as he knelt beside the woman who'd taken a bullet for him—well, a box of syringes in this case.

"We have a few other problems," Tess winced as she yanked the last syringe from her side. There was a lot of blood on the floor now, and still more spilled from her wounds. "The bodies."

"I'll handle it," Dean said, helping Sam and Tess up. Tess clung to him, weak as a kitten from the loss of so much blood. Her head swam and she gripped his arm tightly. "Sam, you're gonna have to carry her."

"I can walk," she protested weakly, knowing it was an impossibility despite her pride.

"Shut up and wrap your arms around my neck." Sam said, trying to steady himself as he picked her up. He looked at Dean, who nodded, and he exited the room. The two bloodied hunters made it down the stairs and out the door as the fire truck appeared. Sam stumbled, but didn't fall, and was thankful when a paramedic ran up and took Tess from him.

"Where's the fire?" a fireman asked hurriedly.

"Third floor. Lab." Sam huffed, finally giving in to the dizziness from his head injury. Before he passed out, he saw Tess lying on a stretcher with her eyes closed, her hand opening to let her chaplet fall to the pavement.

Light began spilling into her eyes as she slowly regained consciousness. She groaned and opened her eyes slowly.

"Slow down," The voice sounded far off, but slowly got closer. Warm hands touched her back and gripped her arm lightly, helping her to ease up. When she opened her eyes, she saw Dean standing over her, his cheek patched up with a butterfly bandage, his hand still lightly holding her arm.

"Where am I?" she croaked groggily.

"Methodist West Hospital. You lost a lot of blood."

"How's Sam?"

"He's fine, getting coffee, thanks to you." Dean said. "Tess, I—"

"It's not Tess," she said slowly. "It's Reese. Well, Theresa, but I go by Reese." she said, extending her hand. Dean took it and shook it gently.

"Dean," They smiled at each other and Reese looked down at her arm.

"So what's the damage?"

"Not all that bad. You lost a lot of blood so they had to hang a few bags, and you've got a bruised rib. They patched you up all nice and pretty."

"How'd you get out of the clinic?" Reese asked, carefully moving her body to see what was going to need the most time to heal. _Definitely the arm and side_, she thought as she painfully curled her fingers into a fist, pain echoing up through her arm and down her ribcage and side. _Fuck, those needles must have hit bone._

"Fire escape," Dean said proudly. He laid a newspaper on her stomach and she looked at the front page. _Fire at Fertility Clinic: Two Dead, Two Injured_.

"You actually set a fire?" she asked in disbelief.

"What would you have done?" Dean answered incredulously. Reese thought about it for a moment and then shrugged slightly, wincing when it jostled her arm. She scanned the article and saw that they were blaming the fire on Doctor Moira Reid, who it seemed had been into some sort of devil worship, and who was also behind the numerous deaths in the past weeks. The victims' loved ones were happy that the culprit had been found, and wasn't able to harm anyone else.

"Listen, Reese," Dean began, and Reese looked at his mouth, at the little spot of blood on the pillow of his lower lip.

"You're awake!" Sam walked in, his head bandaged up, holding two cups of coffee.

"You look…ridiculous," Reese smirked. Sam gave her a smile and sat on the other side of her bed, across from Dean.

"Well, I had my head shoved through a plate glass window."

"Good thing you're so hard-headed." Dean said with a smirk. Sam looked at Reese and Dean was slightly surprised to see the look of genuine relief for her on his face.

"Look, Tess, I just wanna thank you for what you did for me," Sam said, hesitantly reaching to place a hand near Reese's.

"It's Reese," she said, taking his hand in hers. They smiled at each other and Dean looked down at the coffee Sam had given him. "And I was just doing my job. Besides," she shot a look over at Dean. "I think I'd rather have the needles than Dean tearing into me for getting you hurt."

Dean and Sam both chuckled, and Reese winced as she moved her stiff neck.

"Still, I'm sorry you're so beat up."

"Ah, it's not the worst I've ever had. 'Least I didn't have to patch myself up this time around…"

"Ah, Mrs. King, it's nice to see you awake," said a man in a doctor's coat walking into the room. He walked over and Sam moved to the side of the bed Dean sat on so the doctor had room to evaluate Reese.

"How are you feeling? Any dizziness? Nausea? Any pain you can't handle?" the doctor asked, gently moving her arm around to check the wounds.

"I'm a little sore, but that's to be expected I suppose."

"My sister's a trooper," Dean said from beside her. She barely raised an eyebrow, but noticed the ring on her left finger for the first time, and its match on Sam's. Having been in the life of lies for a long time, Reese was quick on the draw, and she figured enough of the story the brothers would have given the doctors.

"She certainly is, Mr. Taylor. Tell me, Mrs. King, can you remember anything about what happened to you?" Reese looked over at Sam and he very carefully moved his hand to his stomach with a slight nod.

"All I can remember is that my husband and I were at the fertility clinic to meet with Dr. Reid, and when she took me back to the lab for an ultrasound she attacked me. She was…chanting in another language and she had all these syringes. Oh god," Reese said, pretending to be terrified as she gripped the doctor's arm. "She didn't poison me did she? Or take my blood for some sort of ritual?" She saw Dean hide a smirk from the corner of her eye.

"No, you weren't poisoned Mrs. King. The syringes that were injected into your arm and side were luckily only filled with saline. As for what Dr. Reid was hoping to accomplish with all these ghastly killings, well that's for the police to find out. I'd say you're very lucky your husband came to your rescue." Reese turned affectionate eyes on Sam and let him caringly take her hand in his.

"He's my hero."

"Well, I'll let you get some rest now," the doctor said and stood to go. "If you need anything, the nurses' station is right down the hall. Mr. Taylor, Mr. King," the doctor said, shaking Sam and Dean's hands. He turned to leave and closed the door behind him, and Reese turned to look at Dean and Sam.

"King and Taylor? Classy," she said with a smile.

"What can I say, I'm a classy guy." Dean smirked.

"So where you boys headed after this?"

"No idea yet," Dean answered, making a face after a sip of the hospital coffee. He'd never understand how they could pass that stuff off as coffee.

"Actually, we've been looking for our dad," Sam said. "John Winchester, you ever heard of him?"

"Sam," Dean warned.

"Yeah, I've heard of him. Can't say I've ever had the pleasure though. Is he missing?" Reese questioned. Sam and Dean looked at each other.

"No offense, but it's a family thing." Dean answered. Reese gave a nod of understanding and raised her uninjured hand in understanding.

"I get it. If I hear anything, I'll shout your way though, yeah?"

"That'd be great," Sam said sincerely. "What about you? Anyone you gotta get back to?"

"Two glorified mutts who've probably torn my place up and pissed in my good boots,"

"You said your mom—"

"Look, you've got your family things, I've got mine." Rees said tersely, cutting Dean off. He raised his hands and she had done and nodded.

"Well, I've gotta piss, so if you two wouldn't mind," Reese began, trying to swing her legs off the bed. Dean and Sam both moved to help her at the same time, and she rolled her eyes. "Why Rhett, Ashley, what gentlemen you are." Reese said, throwing her southern drawl into over drive.

"Now Miss Scarlett," Sam teased, helping her to the door of the bathroom. Reese snorted and shook her head.

"We're gonna swing by the cafeteria while you're…occupied. You want anything?" Dean asked, trying not to notice the open back of her gown before she turned around to face them.

"Green jello," she answered. Dean made a 'yuck' face, but shrugged.

"Whatever floats your boat," he shot over his shoulder as he and Sam exited the room and closed the door behind them.

Sam held a cup of real coffee they'd gotten from across the street for Reese and Dean held the noxious green jello as they walked back down the hall to her room. The door was cracked and Dean looked at Sam momentarily before pushing it open. The room was empty, Reese's clothes and keys gone from the table by the bed, and a note was folded in their place.

"God damn it," Dean cursed as he tossed the jello violently into the trashcan. Sam picked up the note and scanned it.

"Rhett and Ashley, had to split town before the touchy feely crap started again. It was a pleasure being your captive for a while, and anytime you feel like getting into trouble with me again, you give this number a call and ask for Maggie. She'll know how to reach me.

"And about John, I lied. I've had the pleasure of your dad's acquaintance for years, and I know him well enough to know that if he doesn't want to be found, he won't be. Don't get your panties in a bunch about my lie though, it's John's business and you can ask him about it whenever he rears his head. Be safe, boys. I'll see you around." Sam read aloud.

"Son of a bitch. I told you there was something about her!" Dean said, kicking the chair away from the bed. He shoved his hands in his pockets and found the chaplet Reese had used to scare the demon out of the secretary who'd knifed him. He dropped it on the table, wanting nothing to do with it, and looked at the note carefully, trying to find any clue inside.

He looked at the signature at the bottom and furrowed his brow. _Gallagher_, he thought, _why is that name familiar?_

"Well, you're right about one thing. There is something about her," Sam sighed, taking the chaplet Dean had discarded. He had a feeling they would be seeing her around, so he pocketed the bracelet and turned to his brother.

"Looks like we've got one more thing to ask dad about when we find him."

"That's for damn sure." Dean grumbled. Would he ever get to the bottom of the bucket of secrets his father kept?

"Well, no point in sticking around," Sam said heavily, turning towards the door. Dean shook his head and followed, trying to force his mind to remember why that name was so familiar.

Reese walked into the bar and told the bartender she'd want a whiskey when she got done using the pay-phone in the corner. She dialed the number from memory, her arm still burning from the needles that had sunk into her flesh.

"How'd you get this number?" came the gruff answer on the other end of the phone.

"It's Reese,"

"Oh," the man on the other end of the line seemed to be just waking up. "What do you need, Beanpole?" he asked, slightly nicer now that he knew who was calling.

"I ran into the boys on a hunt."

"What? Where? What hunt?"

"It's not important, a demon, they're fine. Sam took a header into a glass window, but he'll be fine."

"Are you okay?"

"I've been better. Pretty beat up. Spent the night in the hospital, but I skipped out on them. They're asking about you John."

"Did you tell 'em anything?"

"No. You mind telling me why they had no idea who I was when I told them my name, John?"

There was silence on the other end of the phone, and Reese clenched her jaw tightly. John had many secrets from his sons, but she never thought that she was one of them. Her childhood had been filled with tales of Sam's intelligence and Dean's prowess. Had it been ignorant of her to assume the same could be said for them? Was it selfish to think John would have told his sons about the girl he'd helped raise?

"Reese…they don't know anything about you,"

"I got that much." she said through clenched teeth.

"I never…damn it Reese, I never thought…"

"That it would matter." Reese finished his sentence. "You know what John, I was more than willing to help you keep the boys off of your trail, but you're on your own now. If you cared," her voice broke and she cursed herself for it. "If you cared about me, at _all_, you would have told your sons about me."

"You know damn well how much I care about you, Reese!" John was angry now, she could hear it. "I never wanted this life for you! You didn't have to do this, hunt things down. You didn't lose anyone like we did!"

"Right! You say that while mama's in earshot. I'd love to see her roll her damn wheelchair over you! You know damn well there wasn't another choice for me!"

"What do you want from me Reese?"

"Absolutely nothing, John. Don't try to contact me."

"Reese!" John yelled, but Reese slammed the phone down and marched over to the bar.

"Looks like you've had a tough day." the bartender said, sliding her whiskey to her and flipping the towel he held over his shoulder.

"You have no idea." she answered, downing the glass.

"Lover's spat?" the bartender asked too hopefully, pouring her another drink. Reese looked at him and raised a brow. _Not bad looking_. She was in no shape for recreational fun though.

"Family thing," she answered.

"Say no more. That's on the house," He flashed her a ten-watt smile and went to pour another drink at the end of the bar. _Then again, recreational fun might be exactly what I need right now…_ Reese mused as she watched him walk off. She took another swig of her whiskey and then reached into her bag to pull out her locket and place it back home around her neck.

Reese cracked the locket open and looked at her mother's picture inside. _Dhéanamh mé do chroí le mianach_, I carry your heart with mine, the inscription read. Reese carefully opened the locket's second compartment and looked down at John's smiling face with a sigh.

"Family…" she muttered, closing the locket again and downing the rest of her whiskey.


	3. Chapter 2: I'll Follow You Into The Dark

**A/N:** As ever, I do not own Supernatural or the characters from it, nor do I own the song titles that serve as the chapter titles. I own very little in fact; only my OC's and imagination. Though, if Dean Winchester happened to show up on my doorstep wrapped up in a red bow, I wouldn't turn me nose up at him, that's for damn sure. Enjoy, loves!

**Chapter 2~ I'll Follow You Into The Dark**

(May 12, 2006)

Reese walked into the apartment with the landlady behind her and quickly scanned her surroundings.

"So you said you were a…"

"Meredith's sister's friend. Sarah couldn't get into town before the funeral and she wanted a particular picture for the funeral so I said I'd get it for her."

"Oh, yes. So sad for this to happen. I still think the police are getting nowhere looking for a murderer. Looked like an animal attack to me, but then again, that's why they get paid to solve murders and I rent apartments."

"Meredith was just so young. I was really more a friend of Sarah's, but I just…it's so…tragic." Reese said, putting on her best watery, puppy eyes. The landlady pat her arm gently and motioned back to the door.

"I'll let you take a minute or two, to remember your friend."

"Thank you," Reese pretended to choke on a sob as the landlady exited the apartment and shut the door behind her. Reese quickly got her EMF meter out and set about moving around the place. The blood was still on the carpet, but there was something odd about it. When the EMF came up empty, Reese went to the carpet and looked at the blood. Dust had collected in strange lines on the carpet, and when Reese ran her fingers over it she found that it was slightly tacky, like someone had lain tape down.

Reese sat back and looked at the faint dust line, grabbed a pen, and scribbled the symbol down quickly. It resembled a weird 'Z' with a circle in the middle. She tucked the paper away quickly and did another once-over. Someone had been there before her, another hunter clearly. The police always missed spatter patterns when they were important, but a hunter knew what to look for. Reese grabbed a random photo album on a shelf, flipped through looking for a believable picture, grabbed it, then shut the album and stuck it back on the shelf.

She walked to the door and opened it to find the landlady walking back towards her.

"Find the picture you were looking for?"

"Yes," Reese said, showing her the picture. The landlady smiled sadly and shook her head.

"Such a pretty girl," she sighed sadly. Reese nodded and let the landlady lead her out of the building.

"Thank you for all your help," she said, shaking her hand before leaving.

Reese slid into the Chevelle and drove off in search of the nearest motel. She pulled up at Danny's Inn Motel and searched the parking lot.

"Christ Jesus," Reese muttered, looking at the familiar Impala in the motel's parking lot. She leaned her head back against the seat with a sigh. She'd successfully avoided all three of the Winchesters for almost two months now, not answering her phone when an unknown number called, letting it go to voicemail almost all the time.

About a week after the Crom Cruach job, Reese got a voicemail from Sam on her phone. She'd played it numerous times since then and still had it saved on her phone, but she didn't need to play it now to remember every word the younger Winchester had said.

_Hey, Reese, this is Sam…Winchester. Look, Dean doesn't know I'm calling, he's off with an ex of his—it's a long story. I'm not calling about dad, I know you've got your reasons and dad's got his. I just…you were really beat up when you left and I…wanted to check on you. You know, I feel responsible for most of it. You didn't have to take that hit for me, you didn't know me…or, I don't know, maybe you did. The thing is, is, well, I just…you knew a lot, or it seemed like you did. I wanted to know if you knew anything about dreams…I've been…I don't know…I shouldn't have called. Sorry._

Reese sighed and threw the car back into drive and shot down the street a ways until she found another motel called the Good Knight. She parked there and walked to the office to pay for a room. She always paid for three nights up front, that way the managers never bothered her about anything, and once she was in her room she always hung the 'do not disturb' sign on the door. She opened the trunk of the Chevelle and began rummaging through her weapons and books. She packed a few favorites into a duffel bag with some books and pulled it into her room before hanging the sign and closing the door.

Sam and Dean had lain that tape down and found that symbol before she had, but she had the advantage of her mother's vast library of knowledge on her side. Reese took a picture of the drawing she'd scribbled with her phone and sent it to her mother, then quickly opened the duffel bag and began strapping on various weapons. She tucked her gun into a shoulder holster and draped her leather jacket over it to hide it, slipped her boot off and buckled a sheath of throwing knives around her calf, then slid the boot back on. She draped her St. Patrick pendant around her neck and then slid her favored silver knife up her sleeve into a hidden sheath she'd made herself, and left the room. She made her way back to Sam and Dean's motel and stationed herself across the street at a café there, and she waited.

Mid-afternoon slowly melted away into evening and the car hadn't moved from the parking lot. Reese was getting tired of waiting for them to make a move, when her phone rang. Reese looked at the screen and sighed when she sat it was Maggie calling.

"Mama, you get anything?"

"It's Zoroastrian, very old and very bad. It's a sigil for the Daeva,"

"Daeva? What's a Daeva?"

"It translates to 'demon of darkness', and they are bad news _mavourneen_. They have to be summoned though, so if you've seen this sigil somewhere, someone's makin' trouble for themselves and for you."

"So what, am I looking for a witch you think?"

"Could be. All I know is that these things are nasty sons of bitches. Whoever or whatever called them there is a major player."

"Mama…" Reese paused, eyes shooting back to the Impala. "The boys are in town, on the same hunt. You don't think…"

"That this has something to do with where John ran off to? That's exactly what I would say. Reese, you need to leave. Not only does this not involve you, but these Daeva are dangerous. Please,"

"I can't mama. I don't know if they know. I have to—" Reese saw the brothers leave the motel room and get into the Impala and she stood abruptly and left the café to follow them. "I have to go mama. I've got eyes on the boys."

"Reese…be careful."

"Always. Love you." Reese hung up and turned the phone off before sliding it into her pocket. She was able to follow the Impala easily enough on foot, reaching the warehouse where they stopped, only slightly winded. She watched the boys enter through the door on the first floor and shook her head.

Reese slipped to the side of the building and eyeballed the distance between the ground and the fire-escape ladder. With a well timed jump, she managed to grab the ladder and ease it down to the ground. She climbed up the side of the warehouse slowly and reached the top as silently as she could. She crept to a window on the side of the building, leaned forward, and carefully peeked inside.

"Why don't you come out?" a girl asked. Reese froze, thinking she'd been found out, then she heard the girl speak again. "Sam, I have to say this puts a real crimp in our relationship." Sam and Dean had been found out, but she still seemed to be undetected. Reese listened carefully and barely inched forward to look inside. She could see the girl's profile now, and saw that she was a thin girl with a blonde pixie haircut.

"Yeah, tell me about it," Sam said. Reese saw that both brothers held their guns on the girl, and she was slightly comforted.

"So where's your little Daeva friend?" Dean asked angrily. Good, at least they knew what they were up against, Reese thought.

"Around…you know, that shotgun's not gonna do much good." the girl said.

"Oh, don't worry sweetheart. The shotgun's not for the demon." Dean snapped.

"So who is it Meg? Who's coming? Who are you waiting for?" Sam asked. Reese felt cold sink into her heart as a shadow in the warehouse slowly became more and more solid behind the blonde girl.

"You," Meg said, and the shadow moved and attacked Sam and Dean in turn. Reese withdrew from the window and pressed her back into the brick of the warehouse. She prayed silently for no serious harm to befall the brothers, her jaw clenched in apprehension.

After a moment, Reese realized that the room inside the warehouse had gone silent. She carefully leaned forward again and peeked inside to see the girl—Meg—tying the incapacitated brothers to two wooden posts. She waited though, not making a move, so Reese followed suit and just watched.

Dean seemed to gain consciousness first, but Sam wasn't too far behind, which gave Reese hope that they weren't too badly injured. Sam had a few deep gashes on his cheek and Dean had blood coming from above his eye, but clearly neither of them had serious head trauma.

"Hey Sam?" Dean rasped, "Don't take this the wrong way, but your girlfriend…is a bitch." he sassed.

"This…the whole thing, was a trap. Running into you at the bar, following you here, hearing what you had to say. It was all a set-up, wasn't it?" Sam said slowly. Meg chuckled and Reese gripped her gun anxiously. "And that the victims were from Lawrence?"

"It doesn't mean anything. It was just to draw you in, that's all."

"You killed those two people for nothing." Sam said angrily.

"Baby, I've killed a lot more for a lot less."

"You trapped us, good for you, it's Miller Time," Dean said gruffly. "But why don't you kill us already?"

"Not very quick on the uptake are we?" Meg asked. Reese peeked in again to see Meg lean closer to Dean. "This trap isn't for you." she said darkly. Reese felt like kicking herself. _John_, she thought, suddenly looking around outside. If the boys thought they were onto something about the demon that had killed their mother, they'd have called John to let him know. And Reese knew, more than anything in the world, John wanted that abomination dead.

"Dad," Sam said. "It's a trap for dad."

"Oh sweetheart, you are dumber than you look," Dean said. "Even if dad was in town, which he is not, he wouldn't walk into something like this. He's too good." Reese cursed silently. Dean was lying and he knew it. She knew it, Sam knew it, and she was betting Meg knew it too. There's nothing, _nothing_ John wouldn't do to gank the demon that killed Mary or to protect his sons.

"He is pretty good, I'll give you that," Meg said. Reese looked in to see her walk over to Dean, kick his legs together, and kneel down to straddle his legs. "But you see, he has one weakness," she said almost proudly.

"What's that?" Dean smirked.

"You," Meg said. "He lets his guard down around his boys, lets his emotions cloud his judgment. I happen to know he _is_ in town," Reese clenched her jaw. _Damnit, John_… "And he'll come and try to save you. And then the Daevas will kill everybody, nice and slow and messy."

"Well I've got news for ya, it's gonna take a lot more than some…shadow to kill him." Dean said, still trying to show Meg a front.

"Oh the Daevas are in the room here—they're invisible. Their shadows are just the only part you can see," Meg said. Reese clenched her jaw and swallowed. She'd seen the shadows rip into the boys and was not too excited about the prospect of them doing the same to her.

"Why ya doin' this Meg? What kind of deal you got worked out here, and with who?" Sam asked.

"I'm doing this for the same reasons you do what you do—loyalty, love," Meg said with an edge to her voice. "Like the love you had for mommy…and Jess."

"Go to hell," Sam said through clenched teeth.

"Baby, I'm already there," Reese watched Meg slide closer to Sam and she grimaced. "Come on Sam, there's no need to be nasty." The blonde leaned in to whisper in his ear and Reese gripped her pistol tighter. "I think we both know how you really feel about me. You know, I saw you watching me—changing in my apartment. Turned you on, didn't it?"

"Get a room you two," Dean groaned.

"I didn't mind. I liked that you were watching me. Come on, Sammy. You and I can still have a little dirty fun," Reese cringed as Meg began to kiss Sam's neck.

"You wanna have fun?" Sam grimaced as Meg kissed his neck. "Go ahead then. I'm a little tied up right now." Meg smirked and continued to kiss him, and Reese clenched her jaw before she busted in through the window.

"Get off of him. Now!" she said, aiming her gun at Meg as she broke away from Sam's neck angrily.

"Well, I wasn't expecting anymore company, but we like to accommodate here," Meg said sarcastically. Reese felt the shadows ripple on the walls, but she saw Sam had broken free from his bonds.

"Reese, get the altar!" Dean bellowed as Sam tackled Meg to the ground. Reese spun towards the altar, but something gripped her arm painfully. She screamed as invisible talons ripped through her flesh, but she managed to break free and topple the altar over. As soon as the Daeva had attacked her, it was gone.

The shadows converged on Meg and she was dragged across the floor to the window, then thrown out screaming. Reese looked down at the deep gash in her arm and Sam crossed quickly to Dean and cut him free. They both stood and gaped at Reese as she held pressure on her arm and looked down at Meg's body on the street below.

"Guess the Daevas didn't like being bossed around," she half-hissed, trying to stem the blood dripping from her fingers.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean asked aggressively.

"Nice to see you too, sweet-cheeks." Reese snapped, pulling a bandana from her jacket pocket. Sam walked over and took the bandana from her.

"Dean, she just saved our asses," he said as he quickly tied the cloth around her bared arm. Reese nodded her thanks and then looked over at Dean.

"That doesn't change the fact that I wanna know what the hell she's doin' here."

"Same thing you are, Dean; I read the papers and picked this of all towns. So sorry if I cramped your style while you were _tied to a pillar_."

"Hey," Dean began to snap, but Sam put his hand against his chest and looked at him harshly.

"Can we save this for later? Someone's gonna call the cops in a second and we need to clear out."

"Sam's right. You can yell at me some more later," Reese said, heading for the fire escape again. She looked back at the brothers and raised an eyebrow, holstering her gun again. "You comin'?"

They followed her down the fire escape and lead her quickly to the Impala. Sam quickly opened the passenger's seat door for her and then slid into the back as she got in and Dean started the car. They sped off down the street and back to the motel.

"Inside, now." Dean ordered Reese. Sam grabbed the bag of weapons they had in the car and shouldered it as they walked down the hallway.

"Why didn't you just leave that stuff in the car?" Dean asked, unlocking the door to their room.

"I said it before and I'll say it again, better safe than sorry," Sam said as Dean opened the door. Dean walked in first and Sam let Reese go before him.

"Hey!" Dean shouted. Reese looked up to see a figure standing in the boy's room and she reached for her gun as Sam moved to open the bag he held and grab a gun as well.

The figure turned around as Dean flipped the light on and Reese trained her gun on him, but they all stopped when they saw who it was.

"Dad…" Dean asked.

"Hey boys, Reese," John smiled. His eyes watered and he took a step forward as Dean did the same thing. They hugged for a long moment and then Sam moved forward hesitantly.

"Hi Sam," John said, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"Hey dad," Sam didn't move to hug John, and the trio all shifted their gazes to Reese. She hadn't moved from the doorway yet, but she'd lowered her gun and stood with her fists clenched.

"Didn't expect to see you here, Sassafras." John said thickly. Reese blinked and one tear slid down her cheek before she wiped it away angrily. She stepped forward and hugged John tightly, burying her face in his chest.

"Dad, who the hell is she?" Dean asked, his fists clenched at his side.

"We don't have time for that now," Reese shot at Dean, then looked back up at John and holstered her gun before saying, "John, it was a trap for you. You shouldn't even be here."

"I thought it might have been,"

"Were you there?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I got there just in time to see the girl take the swan dive. She was the bad guy, right?"

"Yes sir," Sam and Dean answered as Reese said, "Yes." Dean glowered at Reese, but John spoke again and he turned his attention back to him.

"Doesn't surprise me. It's tried to stop me before,"

"The demon has?" Sam asked.

"It knows I'm close," John said. "It knows I'm gonna kill it. Not just exorcise it or send it back to hell—actually kill it."

"How?" Dean asked, surprised.

"I'm workin' on that." he said with a cryptic smile.

"Let us come with you. We'll help," Sam said. Reese looked from Dean to Sam and saw Dean shoot Sam a look.

"No, Sam. Not yet. Just try to understand. This demon is a scary son of a bitch. I don't want you caught in the crossfire. I don't want you hurt." He looked at Reese and she read the apology in his eyes. _And I'm sorry I ever asked you to get involved in this, I don't want you hurt either._

"Dad, you don't have to worry about us."

"Of course I do," John looked from Sam to Dean. "I'm your father. And Reese—"

"I know." John nodded and Dean furrowed his brow. He couldn't help but agree with her, but he was still trying to figure out why his dad was treating this girl like she meant something to him. How could they possibly know each other?

"Listen, Sammy, last time we were together, we had one hell of a fight." John said, his eyes damp.

"Yes, sir." Sam answered with tears also in his eyes.

"It's good to see you again. It's been a long time,"

"Too long." They looked at each other for a moment and Reese looked away, feeling like she was intruding. They embraced, both silently shedding tears. Reese chanced a glance at Dean and saw the touched look on his face.

"Theresa," John said, pulling back from Sam. Reese straightened at the use of her proper name.

"Sir?"

"You and I had words recently and things…they didn't get left right."

"No," Reese said, suddenly like a child being scolded.

"You know that I love you, that I'd never intentionally put you in danger?"

"I know…"

"Dad, who is she?" Dean asked, less harshly this time.

"She's—" John was cut off as an invisible force throwing him backwards into a set of cabinets. Before Reese could react, she was flung in the opposite direction as Sam was hit and fell to the ground.

"No!" Dean bellowed before he himself was thrown back.

John was screaming as blood began pouring from his face and chest, and it looked like Dean was being beaten up by the Invisible Man.

"John!" Reese screamed, moving to reach him. It was like she ran into an invisible wall though, and she hit the floor, her shoulder making a sickening crunch.

"Shut your eyes!" Sam growled, reaching into the bag of weapons he'd dropped. "These things are shadow demons, so let's light 'em up!" He yanked the end off of a flare, setting it ablaze, and the room filled with painful, white light. Reese couldn't make her arm move to cover her eyes though, and realized she'd dislocated her shoulder when she fell. Suddenly, there was a hand over her face though, covering her eyes from the brilliant light.

"Come on, get up!" Dean shouted at her, trying to cover her face and pull her up at the same time, like the blind leading the blind. He pushed her and she fell into another body, Sam's, who then tried helping her from the room.

"Dad!" Dean called, coughing from the smoke the flare had filled the room with.

"Over here," Reese heard Dean struggle over to John as she and Sam made for the door, trying to breathe through the thick smog. She reached out with her uninjured arm and opened the door, the light and smoke lessening in the hallway.

"Can you walk?" Sam coughed as they stumbled into the hallway.

"Yeah, I'll take point," Reese said, stumbling in front of him and using her good hand to scramble for her gun holster. She took the safety off the gun and began leading them down through the motel.

"Alright, come on," Sam said, tossing the bag into the backseat once they'd reached the Impala. "We don't have much time. As soon as the flare's out, they'll be back." he said, his voice rough from the smoke.

"Wait, wait! Sam wait," Dean said, John and he looking darkly at each other. "Dad, you can't come with us." Dean rasped.

"What? What are you talkin' about?" Sam asked.

"You boys—you're beat to hell," John said, holding his side.

"They'll be alright, John." Reese said, holding her dislocated arm.

"Dean, we should stick together!" Sam argued. "We'll go after those demons—"

"Sam! Listen to me! We almost got Dad killed in there," Dean ground out. "Don't you understand? They're not gonna stop, they're gonna try again. They're gonna use us to get to him. I mean, Meg was right. Dad's vulnerable when he's with us. He—he's stronger without us around." Dean turned away from his brother's gaze.

"Dad, no," Sam pleaded, putting his hands on John's shoulders. "After everything, after all the time we spent looking for you—please. I gotta be a part of this fight."

"Sammy, this fight is just starting. And we are all gonna have a part to play. For now, you've got to trust me, son. Okay, you've gotta let me go. Reese will get you somewhere you can heal up safely." John said sadly.

Reese looked away as the brothers and their father shared a sad look. There was silence for a moment, then Sam finally pat John on the shoulder and nodded. They parted and John looked at Reese with a nod, as though thanking her. She returned it and blinked away tears. It had been over seven months since the boys had seen their dad, but it had been almost a year since Reese had seen him. She stopped herself from giving him a hug and watched him walk to his truck beside Sam and Dean.

John stopped at his truck and turned back to them. "Be careful," he told them.

"Come on," Dean said, opening the driver's side door to the Impala and getting in with a grimace. Sam hesitantly moved around to the passenger door and Reese opened the back door with a cringe. They watched as John's truck rounded the corner, and the brothers shared a look before Dean started the car and looked back to, throwing it into reverse and backing into the street. He looked at Reese as he backed out and noted how she was still staring at where John had turned around the corner.

"Where're you parked?" he asked, trying not to sound angry or harsh. Whoever she was, John trusted her, _loved_ her even. For the time being, he decided, he'd trust her too.

"The Good Knight, up the street and left at the light." she answered monotonously. Dean nodded and followed her directions until they found the motel and parked by her familiar Chevelle.

Reese pushed the car door open with a weak gurgle, her arm screaming in protest, and she painstakingly pushed herself to her feet outside. Dean got out and in one quick motion he gripped her arm, shoved her face into his chest, and jerked her other arm, popping her shoulder back into the socket. She screamed into his chest, glad he had enough forethought to muffle her scream, and used her good hand to grip his shirt. He gently massaged her shoulder for a moment, letting her grip his shirt and settle down from the pain. Reese pulled back and nodded, looking up at him with hot tears sitting in her eyes.

"Thanks," she rasped, blinking and using the back of her sleeve to wipe her eyes. She wouldn't cry in front of him.

"Look, we gotta hurry, those things are still out there," Sam said, getting out of the car. Reese nodded and stepped back from Dean. She pulled her keys from her pocket and unlocked her car.

"It'll take a full day to get to my place in Montana, so I say we put a little distance between us and those things and stop to lick our wounds for a while." Reese said as she opened her trunk and found a bag inside with various bandaging material in it. She found a sling and awkwardly draped it over her shoulder quickly, gentling her still-tender arm into it.

"Wherever we're going, we need to go now." Dean answered. Reese nodded and slid into the driver's seat.

"I'll follow you," she said and started her car, slamming her door shut.


End file.
